


I Hope You Like Pancakes

by felypsa



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Uncanny Avengers
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Morning After, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felypsa/pseuds/felypsa
Summary: Emily wakes up in Pietro's bed after their first night together.





	I Hope You Like Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffy drabble inspired by one of many great sketches by Tumblr artist teal-bandit. If you're a fan of anything Quicksilver and/or Maximoff family, go follow her!
> 
> This setting is more 616 Pietro and Emily, aka something I wish would actually freaking happen in the comics soon, kthx.

Sunlight teases her eyes open slowly, and the first breath she takes when she’s awake is a sharp inhale as a warm sensation floods through her body. She presses both hands over her face, but they don’t entirely hide her huge smile as she giggles to herself, her laughter kept secret in the palms of her hands.

Emily Guerrero’s just remembered the events of the night before.

She rolls over in the bed, wearing nothing but sheer delight. Her smile fades ever so briefly when she sees the rest of the bed is empty, but it shines back to neon brightness when she sees a little note with her name on it. This one is much briefer than the note she woke up to in New Attilan General Hospital: _Emily — I hope you like pancakes._

She sits up in the bed and inhales deeply, and yes, there it is — the smell of fresh-cooked pancakes wafting through the bedroom door. She stretches, a yawn splitting her smile wide, then tangles her hands into her unkempt hair, recalling _his_ eager yet careful fingers swimming through the long strands once they were freed from her braid. She’s in no rush to re-braid them this morning. She’s in no rush to put herself together at all, wanting to preserve this feeling of being fresh, natural, genuine.

For practical reasons only, she searches for a shirt to throw on as she slips out from the covers. His room is surprisingly tidy for someone who can be so scattered, but the more she thinks about it, the less surprising it really is; Pietro takes care of the things that are important to him, and that includes his home. The only question is whether it always looks this way, or if he cheekily ran ahead last night to make sure it looked its best. It would have only taken him a minute, at most.

He’s even cleaned up their hastily discarded clothes; hers are folded in a neat pile at the end of the bed, and his are presumably back where they belong. She trails her fingers over the pile, considering getting re-dressed — but it feels a bit like going backwards, as if nothing’s changed. And something has changed. Something wonderful.

The corners of her mouth lift in a mischievous grin as she goes to investigate his closet, humming to herself as she flips through hanger after hanger. She’s not sure what she’s looking for until she finds it, and she can’t help but laugh to herself as she pulls it out. The shirt matches one of his old costumes, white with a jagged blue bolt slashed diagonally from shoulder to hip. She wonders how long it’s been since he’s worn it, and thumbs the material with a smirk.

It’s a little long on her, but that makes it perfect.

She steps out of his room and makes her way to the kitchen, immediately spotting him; he’s wearing pants but no shirt, and she gives herself a moment to admire the sight. She doesn’t _need_ to reach out with her telepathy to tell that Pietro is in a good mood, light on his feet as he dashes here and there — mixing batter, flipping pancakes, slicing fruit, pouring coffee — but she does anyway, just briefly, if only to feel the satisfaction of the happiness that mirrors her own. She’s never sensed him feel quite this happy, and that makes her heart melt faster than butter on hot, fresh pancakes.

He comes to a halt, gaze flitting over to her and staying fixed. 

“Hey,” she says, grinning. “I do like pancakes.”

One heartbeat later, he’s in front of her with a smile that lights up his entire being. “Good,” he says, reaching up to push a wild strand of hair out of her face. “And I like that shirt on you. You make it look good.”

She loops her arms around his neck and thrusts herself up on tiptoes so she can press her lips to his: the first kiss of the morning, the first kiss of many more to come, as many as they can steal from this superhero life. She can’t believe she’s caught the speedster to linger in a single moment in time, but she’ll keep him here for as long as she can.


End file.
